


Sundays are for the Boys

by Pyreof_Books



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andreil Week 2018, Face Punching, Fluff, M/M, Protective Andrew Minyard, Skype
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 12:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15194606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyreof_Books/pseuds/Pyreof_Books
Summary: Andrew is into his pro career away from Neil, now Captain at Palmetto. Neil is a martyr. Andrew is exasperated.Andreil Week 2018 Day Six





	Sundays are for the Boys

            Andrew’s phone started ringing. He sat on the couch, a pile of steaming chocolate chip pancakes topped with vanilla ice cream and syrup on the coffee table, a sugary heap mere centimeters from his mouth. This was his Sunday routine. After a grouling match (where Andrew put in minimal effort), a post- game interview (where Andrew didn’t say a word), and an intense afterparty (where Andrew drank from a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue) Andrew now finally got to sleep in on his lazy Sunday and consume everything his dietitian banned while listening intently to black- screened TV. The rest of his day would follow with a similarly lazy regiment, maybe some reading thrown in, and ended with a biweekly call with Bee. And everytime he settled in for his first delicious bite- this fool called him with a sixth sense for breakfast time.

            He popped the forkful into his mouth and answered Neil’s call with his left hand.

            “Hey, Andrew,” There was a breath. Neil’s neck and the top of his chest were the only visible parts of him on Andrew’s phone screen.

            “Don’t say it,” Andrew said around his mouthful.

            “I wasn’t even going to mention your game. Yet,” He could hear the smirk in his voice, but all he _saw_ were the damn scars on the tops of his shoulders. Shirtless. Of course. The screens shaking meant he was fidgeting.

            “Oh, so you were going to comment on my ‘imminent diabetes’ again,” Andrew watched his throat bob and clanged his teeth on the fork of his next bite.

            “No! Look, Andrew, there’s actually something I should mention,” Then he must have dropped his laptop off his bed, because Andrew saw the familiar scarred chest _and unfamiliar purple scattered on it._ “Shit, wait.”

            Metal clacked against his plate. _Were those hickys on his chest? This is the ‘it’s over’ call. He knew it. He had to call Bee._ Then Neil’s leg came into view, and his hand reaching down to his computer, and his face… Everything stopped for the span of a heart beat.

            “Who did you piss off enough to punch you now?” The left side of Neil’s face was swollen, a harrowing addition when coupled with the burn scars. His eye was squinted, a band of blue muddled red. He still managed to roll it. His hair was wet, too. Idiot probably went for his morning run and showered. The water beading on his neck made him wonder at the taste of the waning adrenaline from his run

            “Why do you assume _I_ pissed him off? For all you know, I was harmlessly walking a long when some shit head tried to deck me!” Neil defended, straightening out his pillows and leaning back, his entire torso and edges of black briefs visible in the frame. Andrew inhaled slowly, cataloging the bruising along his ribs, a particularly dark spot on his side above his hip.

            Andrew stared long enough for Neil to sigh and rest his head on the wall.

            “Look, this guy totally started it,” Neil began. Andrew vowed that anytime Neil started another sentence like that, he would be able to shut him up. “After the game the other night, the team wanted to go to the party the Vixens were throwing, and Coach has been on my ass about trying to bond with them and saying even though you’re all gone I should try with them and I figured _fine, I’ll go._ And you know I only feel comfortable drinking when you and the others are around, but Robin figured since I was there she could have a few. Anyway, early in I see some guy following her and she stumbled around and she was telling him ‘no’ so I went over to tell him that dogs are far smarter than him if a simple command like that trips him up and he hit me.”

            “He hit you. Two days ago,” Andrew repeated, pointedly roving the his chest and avoiding eye contact. He leaned back into the couch.

            “Well, it was him and his two friends from across the party. And of course I dodged the first punch. You should know I can handle one drunk, but I was also trying to keep him off Robin and she was pretty scared because… well, because, and then some of the other Foxes came over and grabbed two of them,” Neil rushed out, rubbing a hand over his side and wincing slightly. Andrew now noticed the rounded edge of a bottle of asprin by the bed.

            “Two of them.”

            “Well the first guy was already unconscious against the wall,” For a second, Neil let the sharp smile of his father’s design flash on his face before dropping a hand over it.

            “Give me their names,” Andrew didn’t plan on suspending himself 3500 feet in the air in a plane right then and there and finding these boys, but he figured next time he drove to visit Neil he could casually find them in the student directory. He could feel his pulse in his ears and flipped his knife in his hand. He hadn’t realized he’d pulled it.

            “Doesn’t matter, Andrew. They know not to touch anyone now. I’ll remind them if they mess it up,” Andrew believed him, too. Neil would bleed for his team even if they weren’t as close as his family, and he would trust Abby to take care of him instead of turning to a bottle and closing himself in the bathroom with a first aid kit.

            “That’s quite the team bonding Wymack lined up. At least some kids learned you get into trouble easily, Junkie. And grab a damn ice pack,” Andrew huffed into the phone. He picked at his breakfast again with the same vigor as before.

            “Hmmm,” Neil pulled the laptop closer, staring intently at the screen and smiling kindly. “I wish you were here.”

            “Aaron’s the doctor to be, not me,” Andrew returned his gaze.

            “Ick. I definitely prefer your hands. The way they wrap around me, the feel of your calluses on my chest, the goal you blocked with them last night was perfect-” Andrew hung up and tossed his phone on the table, heat filling his face and the damp, curling ends of Neil’s hair on his neck perfectly articulated in his mind, the word ‘perfect’ looping in the background. If he felt like it after his breakfast, he would call Neil again. If he ate faster than usual, the stomach ache didn’t last long.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for the title, but I had to. I had so much fun writing their banter and I hope it seemed in character for them.


End file.
